Meadowlark Prairie Searching For An Uncle Of A Friend

The boy had grown.
And thus, changed.
A couple weeks shy of four months old, he had grown quickly, standing at a taller height with a thicker, adult-like coat. His tail was no longer the little worm it had been, now plush and feather. His gaze remained a sapphire hue, unknowingly the same as his long-dead father. He was a well-built boy, from his constant exploring and the challenges he had set for himself. He had changed too, from the bright, open, overly-friendly boy. He was still the model of a polite child, yet more reserved and wary than he had been. Life in the dark woods had changed him, made him more guarded. But his adventurousness, his boldness, had not changed in the slightest. 

Today, he followed the woman he still, sometimes, called moon-lady, but now knew to be Potema. He dogged in her footsteps, a mostly silent presence except for should he be needed. He had developed a great interest in her craft, of the way she fused leaves and plants that could heal, or, he was told, kill or injure. He had had no idea of this power plants had, and he wanted it too. He wanted the lady to teach him. 

But now, she halted, setting don her bundle. Seff's gaze flicked to the stranger, and he halted beside his mentor, ears up and tail raised as he stood beside moon-lady, gaze fixated on the other.